


A Chance Encounter

by pherryt



Series: New Bucky Barnes Bingo [9]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Angst, Camping, Canon Divergent, Fluff, Lonely Clint, M/M, Only One Bed, PTSD, S'mores, SWEET BOYS, Second Chances, Talking, Vacation, bed sharing, kiss, playing with hair, post winter soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:27:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25567414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/pseuds/pherryt
Summary: Clint's on a vacation against his will. Alone.What could go wrong?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, Winterhawk
Series: New Bucky Barnes Bingo [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686778
Comments: 34
Kudos: 131
Collections: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2020, Clint Barton Birthday Bash, Kisses Bingo, Reverse Prompt Challenge





	A Chance Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> Kisses Bingo – First Call - Square: Deep Kisses  
> Clint Barton Birthday Bash – Square 4: Vacation  
> Bucky Barnes Bingo - Square B5: Tell Me  
> Reverse Prompt - Prompt 8: Shooting Stars (Camping)
> 
> Many, many thanks go out to [ Clintscoffeepot ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clintscoffeepot/pseuds/clintscoffeepot) for the beta!! (and the quick turnaround - sorry I panicked!)

Clint was supposed to be on vacation.

No, well, he  _ was  _ on vacation, but he wasn’t supposed to be going alone. And yet, here he was. Alone. Again. Thus was the story of his life. Still, it wasn’t like he could blame the others. Steve and Sam were off trying to track down his best buddy - and fuck, if it was Natasha who’d died, come back to life, gotten brainwashed and then gone missing, Clint sure as hell would be tearing up the world looking for her. So he got it.

Tony was… Tony. And he had a company to run when he wasn’t Avenging. And a Pepper to woo. Or keep wooing or something. Rhodey was military, so he wasn’t available, not that Clint knew him all that well either, but he had an ability to put up with Tony that was second only to Pepper and should therefore be admired. Thor was off world of course. As usual. Which, too bad. That could have been a hoot, bringing Thor around to tourist destinations and seeing him react.

He should suggest that, next time Thor was in the neighborhood of course.

Bruce was on sabbatical  _ some _ where, citing the tower as way too much stress for him. Clint didn’t think it was anywhere near  _ that  _ bad (he quite enjoyed living there, actually), but then he had a whole different definition of how bad things could get before it was  _ that  _ bad.

Honestly, as skeptical as she had been, Clint had really been looking forward to camping with Nat. They didn’t really get much downtime, these days it seemed.

Except, Nat was off on mission and Clint couldn’t even be her backup since he was still on mandatory leave from the  _ last  _ dustup he’d been in, mostly because of his still healing injuries. Which, c’mon, he’d gone into fights much worse off than this and he was always fine. Fine-ish. He was good to go!

Clint sighed and eyed the lopsided tent. It would have been a lot easier to put up, he suspected, if he’d had an extra pair of hands.

The trees shivered in the breeze, just this side of perfect for taking the edge off the heat, and the tent collapsed.

Well.

Fuck.

“Awwww, tent, no….” Clint whined, allowing himself a moment of wallowing before he scurried after the canvas before the wind could pick up and blow it away. Because with his luck, it would. Finally, he got it secured in place and he was reasonably sure it would stay. That’s what the stakes were for, after all.

His wrists were throbbing though and his ribs aching from all the movement. Fuck, maybe camping by himself with said injuries wasn’t a good idea. But Clint was, if nothing else, pretty stubborn at even the best of times.

He  _ would  _ camp, and he  _ would  _ enjoy it.

* * *

Clint huddled in his sleeping bag in the tent and prayed that it wouldn’t leak. Thunder had rolled in sometime in the night, waking him up, and then the sky had opened up.  _ Thanks a lot Thor,  _ he thought grumpily.

Lightning flashed and Clint shot up, staring at the wall of the tent where he could have  _ sworn _ the outline of a man had been silhouetted.

Surely he was imagining things?

…

Clint couldn’t take that chance.

Sliding a knife out from under his pillow – he was on vacation, not stupid – he gently threw aside the top of his sleeping bag and inched toward the opening of his tent, keeping his ears open and eyes peeled, but the pouring, pounding rain made it impossible to pick any sounds out. He eased the zipper of the tent open agonizingly slowly, cautiously poking his head out just in time for lightning to turn night to day briefly once more.

In that quick flash – ha! – Clint saw a man startle, back up a step, and fall over backwards, tumbling over Clint’s now open cooler. Before he could think better of it, Clint was up and out of the tent and by the man’s side. Clint was absolutely soaked through to the skin before he even got there, and the man was already struggling to his feet.

Then he caught sight of Clint and he froze, eyes going wide. He scrambled back, flipped to his feet in a very graceful motion that made Clint’s brain stop for just a second, and then he staggered, hair plastered across his face. It was hard to tell in all this rain, but Clint didn’t think he looked all that hot. Sighing, and knowing Nat would lecture him as soon as she found out, Clint flipped the knife around and switched hands, holding his out to the man. Clint didn’t bother talking, just jerking his head over to the tent.

The man stared at him, eyes flicking from Clint’s face, down to his hand (then over to his other hand and the knife) before going to the tent and back again. He hesitated, for all of about a minute, and then thunder rolled again, he winced and nearly jerked forward, towards Clint, towards the outstretched hand. He took it - and he was shaking - and Clint gave his hand a small, reassuring squeeze before leading him directly to the tent.

He nearly knocked over the electric lantern on his way in, and he quickly righted it, flicking it on. It was small, but Tony had tampered with it and it lit up the space both brilliantly, but delicately too, somehow not burning out one’s eyes.

Clint shuffled further in, making space for the man following him. The tent wasn’t all that big. Wide enough for two people and some things, but definitely not tall enough to stand up in. Which Clint should really invest in a bigger tent, honestly, especially when he led the man inside and realized that he was a great deal bigger than Nat.

The canvas didn’t do much to keep out the noise, but it was enough that Clint figured talking was now an option. He grabbed his duffel, pulling out some dry clothes and a couple of towels, handing the towel to the man.

“Sucks gettin’ caught in the rain unprepared. What were you doing out there, anyway?”

The man frowned and looked down, not answering, though he brought the towel up to rub vigorously through his hair. Clint shrugged and dried his own hair, then peeled off his shirt and considered whether he had too much modesty to change right fucking there.

Yeah, not that much.

He peeled his boxers off too, patted down his skin with the towel, then pulled on the dry clothes with a fair amount of wriggling and contorting so he wouldn’t hit the sides of the tent (or, y’know, the other man). When his head popped through the neck of the shirt, he saw the other man staring at him in disbelief, towel paused in his hair.

“I’d apologize, but this  _ is  _ my tent,” Clint said, not feeling very sorry at all.

“Fair enough,” the man croaked. His voice sounded rusty, unsure. He resumed drying off, but he didn’t change his clothes. Clint shrugged. Guess this guy had the modesty Clint didn’t. That was fair.  _ Somebody  _ had to, and Nat wasn’t here to admonish Clint for his lack thereof.

“Since it looks like you’re crashing here for the night, I’m Clint,” Clint said cheerfully. And  _ wow  _ had his mood picked up or  _ what? _

He really,  _ really  _ didn’t like being alone, okay?

Holding out his hand, Clint waited for the other man to take it. Cautiously, like he was a wild animal, the man reached out and took Clint’s hand, gave it a brief, sharp shake and dropped it like it was made of the same lightning that had been splitting the sky.

“You got a name, gorgeous?”

The man startled but – Clint was relieved to note – didn’t look offended.  _ Score. _

“James,” he said softly, his voice still creaking a bit, but easing with each word.

“Nice to meet you, James. I wasn’t prepared for guests, exactly –“ Clint said, looking around the small tent, which didn’t take long. “But like I said, you’re welcome to stay the night.”

“You don’t even know me,” James said roughly.

“You’re right, I don’t,” Clint said carefully, eyeing James thoughtfully. His body was tense, taut and ready. Some might have read it as prepared to fight but Clint realized suddenly that it was more along the lines of prepared for a blow. Oh geez. Another careful look showed healing bruises and lacerations, pale skin, and a gauntness that bespoke hunger. Aww, cooler, no… James had tripped over the  _ open  _ cooler.  _ That’s  _ what he’d been doing out there. “You hungry?”

James stared at him blankly. “You… you don’t even care… you… I could hurt you and you’ve just invited me into your tent and offered me food.” James was shaking his head now. “You aren’t normal, pal.”

“Yeah, well, tell me something I  _ don’t  _ know,” Clint said, waving him off. “Hold on, I’ve got some snacks around here somewhere. The stuff in the cooler really needs a fire, which isn’t exactly happening right now, so it’s – oh fuck, I should… before the animals get to it… I’ll be right back.”

Scrambling out of the tent on hands and knees – was that a gasp he heard behind him? – Clint raced over to the cooler, righting it and looking around to make sure nothing had spilled out. He closed it back up, securing the lid down against wandering animals but apparently not wandering starving men, and darted back inside, once more soaked to the bone.

James handed him one of the towels almost as soon as he finished zipping up the tent. Clint grinned at him. “Thanks, man,” he said, rubbing his hair through thoroughly and thanking everything that he didn’t have hair as long as Nat’s currently was. Or even as long as James’s hair.

His clothes were still soaked though.

Clint really hoped it wasn’t raining tomorrow so he could lay his clothes out in the sun and dry them, cause at this rate, he wasn’t going to have anything dry left.

Forgoing a shirt entirely, Clint tugged on a new pair of boxers and then looked pointedly at James. “You can’t  _ possibly  _ be comfortable in those wet things. I promise I’m  _ not  _ going to kill you in your sleep.”

James choked as Clint turned his back on him, deliberately, and rummaged about for the bags of snacks. Guy needed way more substance than chips but there was no way Clint could get him anything decent till the rain let up. But he should have – aha!

He held up the box of granola bars and the bag of beef jerky triumphantly, spinning about on his knees. “Here! This should do for now, and water’s behind you.”

Still looking perplexed, James accepted the proffered snacks, settling back as far from Clint as he could in the small space. Hesitantly, he stared at Clint. Clint beamed at him, ripped open his own bag of jerky, and bit into it eagerly. He chewed as James continued to stare and then finally, James seemed to come to a decision, breaking into the jerky just as Clint had. He ate it mechanically at first, then swallowed and eagerly took the next bite, and the next.

Jesus.

How long had it been since he’d eaten?

Clint watched James out of the corner of his eye, trying with all his secret spy moves  _ not  _ to be obvious. He watched as James tore into the box of granola bars next, saw him slowing down about halfway through. James’s eyes were doing that slow blink, his head doing the tilt and jerk that meant he was about 2 seconds from falling asleep.

His hair was mostly dry, but his clothes were still wet. If he was uncomfortable, he wasn’t letting on. Clint got that. He’d suffered through much that made other things pale by comparison. Whatever was going on with this guy, he was probably feeling better than he had in who knew how long.

Eventually, the man tilted forward enough that Clint caught him, easing him to lie on his back on the ground, atop the still open sleeping bag. That was another thing Clint was going to have to lay out to dry tomorrow, but this guy…

Clint looked at him and distant memories stirred.

He knew what it looked like to be at the end of your rope. He knew what it looked like to expect abuse. The man stirred, eyes struggling to open, a hitching gasp, a small mewl that Clint didn’t think he was meant to hear. A hand shot up and grabbed Clint’s –

“Shhh…” Clint said. Then yawned. “I’m tired. You’re tired. Let’s both get some sleep, yeah?” Clint let his head hit the pillow and yawned again, curling up a little before rolling over, once more presenting the man his back.

It was stupid of Clint to do that, to expose himself like this. But this man, whoever James was, was afraid. Clint didn’t think he was in any actual danger from James. He could afford to offer the other man a little trust.

He could hear James settling in behind him after several long seconds and Clint relaxed, yawned again, and nearly promptly fell back to sleep, lulled by the rain still pouring down thickly around them.

* * *

He awoke to a furnace.

And an arm wrapped around him, a leg pushed between his, a head thunked square in the middle of his shoulders. Hot, moist breath anointed his back, a sleepy mumble sounded in Clint’s ear the hand around his middle tightened and pulled him closer.

Clint let out a careful breath.

So.

Mystery james was a cuddler.

There were worse things.

Clint happened to  _ like  _ a good cuddle, though he rarely got what he wanted. Nat wasn’t much of a cuddler - wasn’t touchy feely much at all, actually – but when she was in the mood, she usually deigned to cuddle with him. Steve wasn’t much of one either, always a little too proper and prim. Not that he  _ wasn’t  _ touchy feely, but it was in wholly different ways. Casual touches. Clasping a shoulder, a hug if you needed one.

But not a cuddler.

Clint hadn’t even tried with Bruce, not after seeing how much he preferred  _ not  _ to be touched. Thor was actually quite a good cuddler but wasn’t around often enough for Clint’s taste. But when he was, oh boy!

Cuddling with Tony usually meant getting poked by sharp objects or things falling on him, as Tony’s workaholic nature made it impossible – or at least nearly impossible – to let go of the next project or fascinating puzzle.

So this?

This felt good.

Really, really, way too fucking good.

Clint was resorting to getting cuddles from a stranger, however accidental it was. He was way more touch starved than he’d thought. Shit. 

Rolling over, slowly and carefully, Clint came face to face with his unexpected house – tent? – guest. The light streaming in from outside lit the space with a warmer glow than his lantern, casting a healthier tone to the skin of James’s face. Or the night of rest had really done him some good.

Even in sleep, his brow was creased, and Clint had the sudden urge to smooth it away. But just because he’d woken up in this guy’s arms, didn’t mean he had the permission to touch him, no matter how achingly adorable he was like this.

Clint didn’t  _ know  _ him.

After a few more minutes of staring, Clint figured he should probably get moving on breakfast, and tried to push himself back and out of James’s arms.

James spasmed, eyes slamming open and wide, fear filling the gorgeous blue eyes that stared blankly at Clint. He was breathing hard, rapid, and his fingertips tightened almost painfully on Clint’s skin.

“Easy, easy,” Clint said. “Remember where you are? I offered you shelter. Place to sleep. Food too. You were still soaking wet when you fell asleep last night, I think you rolled towards me for some warmth. Nothing happened. Just gonna get up, make breakfast.”

Clint continued to talk calmly and evenly. And it seemed to go far in helping calm the other man. James nodded jerkily, then Clint could feel his fingers letting go, each one pulling off, one finger at a time. Almost like he wasn’t used to getting his own body to do what he wanted it to do.

He almost shuddered at the thought, reminded far too easily of his time as Loki’s puppet. How it both was and was not him at the helm. Loki had provided direction, purpose, and a compulsion to please Loki, but it had still been Clint’s ideas, had been his own hands that moved him about to do Loki’s bidding.

It was the one thing he couldn’t explain to the others, how Clint had pretty much had free rein over his actions. How the choices had been his. Loki had just… narrowed his viewpoint. Limited the field of choices.

Shaking off the sudden, swelling sense of worthlessness and despair that tried to swallow him whole, Clint gave James a pat, grateful to see he was being let go.

He shuffled out of the tent, stood, and leaned back, pressing his hands in at the base of his spine and listening to all the satisfying cracks. Okay, sleeping on the ground was probably not the best thing at his age, but fuck, if he could jump off a building, then he should be perfectly capable of a little sleeping on the ground, right?

Looking around, Clint took in his surroundings. The rain had tapered off sometime in the night, but there were still puddles of water pretty much everywhere. He’d had the forethought to put some of his firewood under a tarp, so it should be relatively dry enough to actually start a fire. Which meant that breakfast – and coffee – wouldn’t be too far behind.

The fire was well underway before James crawled out of the tent. He had changed, at least, into the shirt that Clint had handed him the night before, and a pair of jeans that he hadn’t, but Clint didn’t mind. James had pulled his jacket back on over it all, and Clint thought the boots were the same, though the jeans he’d pulled on were a little long in the leg and pooled around James’s ankles.

Well, they’d have to be, actually. It’s not like Clint had brought spare boots. He shook his head. He was oddly fixated on this guy, never mind that James  _ was  _ the only other person out here for probably miles, at least.

Clint really should be more concerned about his safety, but as he watched James warily take in his surroundings, the tightly coiled spring of his body, Clint just felt… protective.

Shit.

It was Nat all over again.

He patted the log he’d dragged over when setting up camp the night before and nodded his head at the fire. “Breakfast’s almost ready. Nothing fancy, I’m afraid. C’mon and have a seat. It’s a little damp but…” he shrugged.

James inched over and delicately did take a seat – at the far end of the log.

Clint passed him a mug, a beat up, spare tin he’d found in the bag, already filled with black coffee. “It’s just plain. Nothin’ like Starbucks, I’m afraid. But if you want sugar, I got some of that.”

“S’fine,” James mumbled, looking down at his mug. He twitched, then froze, as Clint leaned forward to poke at the pan. Again, nothing fancy. It was hard to screw up scrambled eggs, though he knew it could be done.

“Hope you like scrambled,” Clint said, conversationally.

There was a sound from beside him that made him look up and he saw James’s face twisted with fear, sadness and this sort of helpless hurt all mixed up together in something… something bigger. The mug fell out of shaking hands and James was gasping now.

“Shit,” Clint said. He’d seen something like this before. Hell, he’d  _ been  _ this guy before. When the most innocuous things would trigger something bad in the brain, something painful. Everyone was different, their PTSD and their potential triggers were often – but not always – the same. And this, Clint knew. What he  _ didn’t  _ know was how safe it was to try and help the poor guy out.

What the hell had he even said?

“Hey, hey buddy, wherever you were, you’re not there anymore, okay?” Clint said calmly, trying to inject all the most soothing of qualities into his voice as he could. Moving carefully, obviously, he slid off the log and knelt before James. “I don’t know what I said, but try to breathe. You’re safe. I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

“N-no,” James choked out. “No where’s safe. From them or… or me…”

“You didn’t hurt me,” Clint pointed out. “And you had every opportunity to.” From the two times Clint turned his back on him, to the moment he fell asleep in the guy’s arms.

He shook his head, curling in on himself, making himself small, but his eyes were focused on Clint, wide and wet. It was a start.

“Who’s chasing you, James?” Clint asked softly.

James shook his head.

“It’s okay. I’m more capable than I look. Tell me.”

At first, Clint didn’t think James was going to talk. After all, he was a literal stranger. Why would he? But then James shuddered, and whispered, “...hydra....”

Clint blinked. Then blinked again.

HYDRA.

Noooo…….

He took a closer look at James. No. At… at  _ Bucky.  _ How the fuck had he missed that? Steve had taken over an entire level of Tony’s tower to  _ look  _ for this guy! There were pictures and video footage and maps everywhere!

Jesus, Nat would have a  _ field  _ day with this.

Clint cleared his throat. “Well, HYDRA. Pretty bad guys, sure, but I mean, they’re running scared now, I think. You don’t have to be afraid of them anymore, Bucky.”

James – Bucky’s – shoulders tensed and his eyes darted away from Clint, around the area Clint had chosen as a campsite and looked like he was about to bolt. Which… fair. Poor guy didn’t know which end was up at this point.

“Hey, hey,” Clint rocked back on his heels – dangerously close to the fire behind him, he knew – and held his hands up. “I’m half naked and not carrying any weapons. Currently. I’m not HYDRA. I’m not here to take you in. Fuck, I didn’t even know you  _ were  _ here. This was an enforced vacation!”

“I’m not carrying any weapons either,” James – Clint was gonna stick with James, since that was the name he’d been given – said. “But I  _ am _ one. I could break you six ways from Sunday without breaking a sweat.”

Clint grinned. “I’m not  _ that  _ easy.” He gave James another look. “Okay, maybe I am, but  _ not  _ the way you’re thinking.”

That startled a laugh out of James, a little rusty and unsure, but it was  _ definitely _ a laugh and Clint would take it.

“Eggs gotta be done by now. Sure you won’t have some?” Clint asked, once more  _ very  _ deliberately putting his back to James, to prove a point and drive it the fuck home. He rescued the pan and looked the eggs over. Good, they didn’t look burnt at all. He dished the eggs out onto a couple of paper plates, then sat back, his back against the log, and held one up over his head.

It hovered there for about thirty seconds before he could feel the plates lifting away and he let go. “Got salt, pepper  _ and  _ ketchup if you want,” he offered, reaching for those very things off the cooler.

“Ketchup?” James’s voice was still raw, held a little bit of a tremor but James wasn’t bolting. Yay Clint.

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” Clint said, upending the jar of ketchup over his plate and giving it a couple of healthy smacks. Ketchup oozed out of the bottle at a respectable rate and he turned it back up. “Want it?”

Silence.

But then the ketchup was also being lifted from his hands and Clint was smiling down into his eggs.

* * *

James stuck around.

Clint didn’t actually think he would, but he did. He didn’t talk much, but he was starting to look better. Despite nightmares – and boy howdy, did he have nightmares – he was getting enough sleep that the circles under his eyes were starting to ease up.

That and a wash at the lake had helped.

It had also helped his hair. Which Clint had assisted with untangling and brushing out, before somehow finding himself playing with James’s hair and experimenting with different hairstyles, then teaching James how to do them.

He had  _ a lot  _ of practice with Nat’s hair.

And James’s hair, once washed properly, was soft, and then James melted like butter when Clint gently scratched at his scalp which was… far too cute. Really.

Between sharing the tent and the sleeping bag at night, and playing with James’s hair every day, Clint was having a hell of a time keeping his hands off of James. Still, James seemed to  _ want  _ Clint’s touches, so Clint watched James for any bad reactions whenever he got in close and adjusted his casual touches accordingly. And while moments happened when it looked like James expected a blow, he never exploded outward.

That was a good sign, Clint thought. Or, well, a weird one. Because he hadn’t expected James to be okay with  _ any  _ touching, to be honest. Clint had avoided Nat –  _ especially _ – for months after Loki. Sure, he’d trusted her, but he hadn’t trusted  _ himself _ and Clint had thought James would be at the point where he didn’t trust anybody,  _ including _ himself.

Still, no violence was good, even if James made Clint worry in other ways. Whenever James curled in on himself, or tensed, or flinched, Clint backed off immediately and gave him space. It seemed to work. Eventually, James would uncoil and inch closer again.

The rest of the week was good, weather wise, and so Clint was able to air and sun dry his clothes and the sleeping bag. Now that he knew who James was, James didn’t bother taking care anymore to keep his arm covered and  _ that _ was a piece of work.

Not how he’d gotten it, of course, but the craftsmanship behind it. Still, Clint didn’t make a big deal of it. He also didn’t avoid it or pretend it didn’t exist. James probably hadn’t felt normal in a long, damn time. And Clint? He was an expert at normal.

Well…

Okay, childhood with the circus notwithstanding. And being an expert marksman with an outdated weapon. And, well, being an Avenger probably wasn’t in normal parameters either. Still, he was normal where it counted. He was sure. Maybe.

So, during the whole week, Clint alternated between chattering and giving James silence when it was needed. James never asked, but Clint always knew. He’d been there, with Loki, and the guilt had eaten away at him for years. Still did, sometimes. He couldn’t imagine the kind of guilt James was taking on himself.

He couldn’t imagine, but he understood it. He understood it all too well.

As for activities, they stuck around the campsite, swam in the lake (okay, Clint more floated, really, to avoid aggravating his ribs and still cool off), and watched the stars on sleepless nights. There were books to be read – and James loved to read, and sometimes, he even read to Clint and Clint liked that more than he’d thought. If it hadn’t been for his wrist and his ribs, Clint would have broken out his bow, but he knew better than to push it. He only brought it in case of emergency anyway.

Sometimes, when they talked, it was James who guided the conversation, hesitantly asking questions. Poking into who Clint was, and from there to Steve – only natural, Clint supposed - with worry and guilt on his face. Clint answered those carefully but honestly.

All in all, the week was pretty uneventful, considering Clint suddenly had an ex assassin under his wing, in the middle of nowhere. And it absolutely  _ should _ have been boring as hell and if Clint had been alone, he knew it would have driven him nuts. Or maybe caused a spiral. So, really, James was a lifesaver.

He didn’t think James would stand to listen to that though, so he kept his mouth shut on the subject.

Towards the end of the week, Clint had the bright idea to teach James about s’mores, and that had been a treat and a half.

Literally. Best damn s’mores ever, if he did say so himself. Though cleaning out the metal plates was a bitch.

“Oh man, I’m soooo sorry about this,” Clint said, James’s arm spread over his lap as he tried to meticulously pick marshmallow goo out of the articulated joints and seams of the arm. “I should have known better but, I mean, you gotta admit.” Clint looked up and flashed James a smirk. “Kinda worth it, right?”

James was looking at him in some sort of stunned awe, a blush spreading over his face. And Clint was really thinking about just how beautiful James was, how nicely he cleaned up, and how much he really wanted to kiss him (except he wouldn’t, because he didn’t want to take advantage of him), when James suddenly said, “I wanna kiss you.”

Clint blinked and dropped James’s hand at the echo of his own thoughts being spoken aloud. “Uh… what?”

“I… fuck,” James looked away, tugging his arm back into his own lap and his shoulders hunching over. He was back to making himself look small, prepared for something, for blows or punishment. It hurt Clint to see. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Y’know,” Clint said slowly, weighing his words carefully and hoping to hell he wasn’t misstepping. “It’s not that I’m averse to the idea of us kissing.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Really… not averse. But uh, you took me by surprise. And um, I mean, are you… sure?”

James’s head slowly rose as he stretched back out, not unlike a turtle coming out of its shell, and he blinked at Clint. “Me?” he asked uncertainly, like it hadn’t even occurred to him that his choice in this mattered, that Clint was more concerned for James then himself.

Clint shrugged, then nodded. He should probably fight this. He should probably try to talk James out of this, if this was what he wanted, because maybe he really didn’t, once he came back to himself more. What if he was just latching on to Clint because Clint had been nice to him? What if he regretted all of this?

But at the same time, if Clint pushed back on this, he’d just be making James’s choices for him, right? Like HYDRA had. And fuck, but Clint didn’t want to take away James’s new found freedom, his sense of self. And… and James deserved that, deserved making his own choices, taking chances and risks, to fuck things up on the off chance it’d be good, and maybe, hopefully,  _ not _ fuck them up.

Just like any other normal human.

How could Clint take that away from him?

But… was this right? Was he taking advantage of James? Fuck, where was the moral ground here? Clint felt like he was sinking in quicksand, unable to come to an objective conclusion.

James stared at him as Clint battled with his conscience and understanding passed over his face.

“Damn, sweetheart, everything you do just makes me want to kiss you more,” he said, a hint of Brooklyn drawl that shivered over Clint’s spine and settled low. He almost whined. This.  _ This _ was the hint of  _ Bucky _ Steve would talk about. This was the charm James must have turned on the ladies left and right, and Clint –

Clint was proving to be just as susceptible to it as they surely had been, if the tales were to be believed.

James leaned in and Clint – Clint placed a hand on James’s chest. Not pushing, but James halted all the same. Clint licked his lips. “I don’t want you to regret this later,” Clint finally managed.

“Will _ you _ ?” James asked, eyes half lidded.

“I regret many things in my life,” Clint admitted. “A kiss, all things considered, is small change in comparison. But if it makes you feel better, I think the only way I’d regret this, is if you did.”

“Then, if you don’t mind, I would like to kiss you now,” James said, his voice purring and sultry and unlike the rough, rusty thing it had been when he first stumbled over Clint’s cooler.

Dazedly, Clint just nodded, and when James pushed forward again, the hand on James’s chest shifted, curling into a fist, clutching the shirt as James drew nearer and nearer. Clint could hear his own heartbeat, he was sure, and then James’s lips pressed into Clint’s and Clint melted, groaning at the soft plushness of them.

He gasped when a hand slid up his neck and cradled the back of his head, tilting his face for James to deepen the kiss, teasing Clint’s lips open with his tongue. Clint hadn’t been kidding when he said he was easy, and he opened up without even a thought of resisting, shivering under the sudden onslaught of James. The taste of him, the heady hunger of James’s mouth as he gently plundered Clint’s. The soft bite and drag of James’s teeth, tugging at Clint’s bottom lip, before diving back in, drawing clear, staring down with those same bedroom eyes that made Clint wish for more, then dove right back in again.

James kissed like no one Clint had ever kissed before. There was something in it that changed every other kiss he’d had, and he couldn’t put a finger onto what.

Groaning, Clint opened readily, tried to take everything James was giving him and return it in spades but his legs were already made of jelly and the only thing holding him upright was his fist in James’s shirt and James’s arms around him.

It was far too soon that the kiss ended. Clint slumped forward, panting hard into James’s throat. “Oh fuck,” he groaned. “I will  _ never  _ regret that.”

James was petting his hair. Clint was going to die. “Yeah?”

“Ooooooh yeah. Think it’s safe to say you still got it,” Clint chuckled weakly.

“Got…what?” James’s hand paused.

“Uh,” Clint flushed, really glad James couldn’t see his face. “Panty melting charm.” Oh god, why the fuck did he say that? Quick, deflect! “Is Steve gonna kill me?”

James froze under him. “What?”

“For taking advantage of you,” Clint said quickly, finally pushing up and off James, still red as a beet. “To protect your virtue, y’know, shit like that?”

“Don’t think I have any virtue left to take advantage of,” James said slowly. “Pretty sure HYDRA took care of that.”

Clint blew out a breath. “That’s not…  _ entirely _ … what I meant,” he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Why did he  _ do  _ these things to himself? Why had he complicated this?

“I don’t understand, doll,” James drawled, sitting back and looking far too amused for Clint’s liking. “Why don’t you spell it out for me?”

This was a trap. Why did it feel like a trap? Fuck.

Waving a hand around in the air like it would magically bring the words to him, Clint tried to stumble through his explanation. He owed it to James, right? “Look, from what I understand – correct me if I’m wrong – you’ve been under their thumb for a long time. they’ve probably tortured you every way imaginable on top of the brainwashing and mindwiping. You’re… you’re still recovering from all that. That can take a while, I know, so I definitely shouldn’t be making any moves when you’re still, y’know, working these things through.”

“But you didn’t,” James pointed out. “ _ I _ did.” Then his eyes narrowed. “What do you mean,  _ you know _ ? What happened to you?”

It was Clint’s turn to freeze and his eyes slid away from James. “Don’t worry about it. Wasn’t the same thing. It’s over and done with, it’s in the past and I’m all good now,” Clint said, finally looking back at James and flashing him a smile he hoped would cover the fact that some days, he didn’t think he was.

But James’s face and those blue eyes – so damn expressive – was covered in emotions Clint didn’t want to acknowledge. His smile faltered and James reached up to cup his face.

“Jesus,” James whispered, and now his eyes were filling with tears. “Fucking hell. People are fuckin’ shitty. I’m sorry you went through that.”

Clint covered James’s hand with trembling fingers. “It wasn’t even a tenth of what you’ve gone through.  _ I’m fine _ .” Maybe if he kept saying it, one of them would believe it?

“Nobody should have to go through it. It don’t matter how long it was for, it ain’t right,” James choked. The tears spilled and Clint inhaled shakily, his other hand reaching up to wipe at them.

“Okay, okay, some days I’m a little less fine than others,” Clint admitted softly. “But I promise you, I’m in a better place than I was, and it was because of the people around me, people who cared for me, that I’ve come so far. I know we haven’t talked about when my vacation is over, but, you could come back with me. Think there’s at least a handful of people who might be able to be that for you, too, who could be your support.”

“I can’t –“ James said. “I hurt Steve-“

“And I hurt Nat,” Clint said. “She forgave me and he’s already forgiven you.”

James sniffled wetly. “Cause he’s a moron.”

“Don’t try to call Nat a moron, she may well kill you,” Clint advised. It netted him a chuckle, which he was counting as a win. “Look, I won’t force you to come with me, but I… I really don’t like the idea of leaving you behind. I don’t want you to be on your own again. And, I know I haven’t known you long but, I’d miss you.”

“You’d miss me?” James asked. There was a thread of vulnerability in his words that made Clint want to sweep him back up in his arms. But he held back. James had to decide on his own. Clint could ask, but he didn’t want to manipulate James into doing anything he was wary about. He already felt like he was toeing the line here and he had to pull back.

But he should be honest with him too, right?

Clint bit his lip, let his hands fall away from James and nodded. “I mean, yeah. Whatever’s going on here, I’d like to think we’re at least friends, right?”

“But you’re leaving it up to me?”

“Choices, man,” Clint said. “We all deserve them. That’s life. Even if we don’t agree with each other’s choices, we have the right to make ‘em, good or bad.” Clint flashed him a smile. “I’ve made plenty of both in my life. I sure as fuck don’t necessarily know what the right answer for you is. I know what I want, but what I want doesn’t matter. What Steve wants doesn’t matter. It’s what  _ you  _ want.”

“Huh,” James said, withdrawing from Clint. Clint felt the loss far too keenly for a man he’d only known for a week. James looked… overwhelmed, though, and thoughtful, and Clint was going to give him his space.

He built up the fire, cleaned up the remnants of the s’mores and used the toasting sticks as additional fuel. Dusk had given way to twilight and twilight had turned to night in that way where you never noticed it happening, it just suddenly  _ was _ and the fire was lighting the area beautifully.

James remained quiet the rest of the night, was quiet as they got ready for bed. Without even a second thought Clint was wrapped in James’s arms, easy as anything. He was slowly drifting off to sleep when James murmured in his ear.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay?” Clint asked, moving to turn around. James tightened his arms, holding Clint still.

“Okay, I’ll come back with you,” James said, though he sounded scared as fuck. Clint grasped at James’s arm where it covered and held him close. “Just… you’ll be with me, right?”

“Long as you want me to be,” Clint assured him.

“If something goes wrong –“ James’s voice cracked.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Clint said, giving James’s hand a squeeze. “We’ll be there to help you, and we won’t let you hurt anyone. You’ll be safe in the tower.”

“Promise?” James asked, his head dropping between Clint’s shoulder blades again. His breathing was choppy, and Clint ached.

“Don’t think anyone can promise anything, one hundred percent,” Clint said, rubbing his thumb along the top of James’s hand, warming the metal. “But yeah, you got it.”

A shuddering breath, a nod against his back and James’s arms relaxed, finally allowing Clint to roll over. “Just, we gotta decide one thing first before we get there.”

James looked at him warily. “What?”

“The kiss,” Clint said, blushing. “What are we doing about that? I have this crazy feeling Steve’s gonna take one look at us and  _ know _ , and, like, what are we telling him?”

“Oh,” James said, eyes going wide. Then he blushed. “Well, it’s none of that punk’s business what we’re up to, really. You uh, seemed into it, though.”

Clint hummed dreamily, remembering the kiss. “Very.”

“Then… let’s just, see where it goes from here?” James asked anxiously. “I know you think it’s too fast, but… I’m pretty sweet on you already, and I can’t see that changin’ any time soon.”

“It might, when you get back into the world again,” Clint said. “ I'm not the only fish in the sea... Well... Okay yeah,  _ currently _ I am, but that'll change when we get back .”

But James was looking at him so hopefully that Clint sighed. He was lost to those blue eyes, wasn’t he? “Okay,” he groaned. “Let’s leave it open for now. But if you change your mind-“

“I won’t,” James said firmly, grinning in triumph. Wait, who was being manipulated by whom here?

“But if you do—" Clint insisted.

James rolled his eyes. “I’ll speak up.”

That would have to do, and now James was pulling Clint’s head to rest on his shoulder, and this was nice too.

There’d be a hell of a commotion when he got back to the tower with James in tow, but honestly, Clint had a  _ really  _ good feeling about this. He felt warm, and safe in James’s arms and from the way James had opened up around him this past week, he was willing to hazard a guess that he felt the same.

Even if  _ they _ went nowhere, James coming back to the tower would be good for him, and having someone who understood even the slightest bit of what he’d gone through could only help in his recovery.

Clint yawned and snuggled in, because apparently, he had permission to do that.

Yup. He had a really good feeling about this.


End file.
